


and other metaphors

by poetrics



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: M/M, set after the Seiten Taisei/Hakkai fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 15:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12656166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetrics/pseuds/poetrics
Summary: Something has to bend before Hakkai breaks.





	and other metaphors

Pain licks at his consciousness like flame on the edges of paper, slowly at first then seeping inward, consuming, overwhelming. When he tries to speak, the rasp isn't any kind of spoken language but another voice- familiar, comforting- murmurs its understanding.

Lashes flutter over unseeing eyes and Hakkai sinks back into temporary oblivion.

 

The second time he wakes it's to red hair and mouldy sheets. Gojyo's attention snaps to him when he moves and he promptly has a glass of water shoved into his hand. "Here, wise guy, before you try talking again."

Hakkai takes a sip, coughs, sips again. "Goku?"

"Asleep."

There's no more information forthcoming. The strike of a lighter, and Hakkai realizes he's going to have to ask. "Sanzo?"

A long exhalation of smoke. "Fuck if I know."

They're silent for a long time after that.

 

Healing himself with his own chi is always a long, almost self-defeating process, but at least Hakkai can sit up now. When he finally starts eating from the plate of food on the side table, an odd light fills Gojyo's eyes. Hakkai doesn't say anything.

Several minutes later, Gojyo has moved so that he's slumped in a chair right next to the bed. He can't seem to raise his head to look at Hakkai. "Third time's the charm or some shit, right?"

Hakkai stares at the orange slice in his hand. "What do you mean?"

A self-depreciating laugh. "Oh, you know," Gojyo rakes his hand through his hair, "the 'first and last time.' Keeps fuckin' happening."

Something turns in Hakkai's stomach to know that Gojyo remembers some of the first words spoken between them with the same clarity he does. He can't quite manage the light tone he's trying for. "I wouldn't say this counts, though."

A pause. Gojyo is looking at him. He doesn't look back.

"I might be indestructible," and Gojyo's voice is _raw_ , gravel and fear and broken glass, "but you aren't." Their conversation on the bridge washes over him, everything left unsaid or said lightly, the knowledge that Gojyo heard what he meant to say. Some part of him has always known but it's _different_ to hear it given existence in the humid twilight. His ears are ringing. They've danced around this for so long. "I can't- shit, Hakkai- if you-" and Hakkai looks up.

Gojyo kisses him.

Something shatters in Hakkai's throat and he sways into the touch, dropping the orange as he wraps shaking hands in the front of Gojyo's shirt to pull him closer. Gojyo's hands on his face are gentle, too gentle, and he's not sure if the tears on his cheeks are his own. They part with a ragged gasp, foreheads touching, panting into the air between them. After a moment Gojyo leans back and wipes his mouth.

"Gojyo-"

He cuts him off with a sharp shake of his head. "You can't kick it before me, got it?"

Hakkai thinks of his too-short lifeline, of the permanent ink extension he'd been given, of the blood he's spilt and the lives he's sworn to live for in atonement.

_When did I become part of_ your _we?_

He closes his hand over Gojyo's. "All right."


End file.
